After another round of fierce fighting, Victar realized his second son, Vickary, who had been by his side, was nowhere to be seen.
Victar had no idea how many men he had killed today, or how many times he had swung his sword and raised his shield. He only felt utterly drained, his strength vanishing in an instant as he collapsed onto the deck.
Leaning against a corpse whose face he didn't recognize, Victar was soaked from head to toe in crimson. An arrow was stuck in his shoulder guard, his open-faced helmet had long since left his head, and a long gash gaped open on his right calf.
Lying on the deck, Victar found everything around him incredibly noisy.
Heavy breathing, pleas for mercy, the sound of blades slicing through flesh, arrows thudding into shields, the roars accompanying sword swings.
Victar gasped for air, praying silently: "Old Gods, New Gods, anyone, just give me a quick end!"
Minutes passed. Neither the Old Gods nor the New answered his prayer. No one paid any attention to Victar lying on the ground.
Regaining a bit of strength, Victar managed to wriggle into a sitting position. With great effort, he shed his heavy chainmail and slumped over the railing.
He saw 'Shorty' Weiss still fighting. Weiss didn't look good, but his movements remained incredibly agile. His face and expression were as wooden and plain as ever.
The pirates and mercenaries on the deck of the large ship had been cleared. Victar finally spotted Vickary. He was leading the crew in a fight against mercenaries and pirates reinforcing from a medium galley flying the Jolly Roger.
"It's good to be young. If I were his age, I could probably kill two more?" Victar thought uncertainly.
Victar looked out to sea. Of the five purple-sailed ships, one had veered off course for some reason and crashed into a medium pirate galley. The remaining three were attacking the other two large pirate ships.
Victar saw that on one of the large pirate ships, the mast carrying the garish skull flag had been chopped down.
But the situation on that ship wasn't optimistic. Several medium pirate galleys had surrounded it, and the Braavosi sailors and swordsmen aboard were locked in a desperate struggle, just like them.
The pirates on shore had noticed the situation at sea. They were boarding medium galleys in waves, constantly reinforcing the three large ships, hoping to retake them.
Seeing this, Victar smiled bitterly. His original plan was to seize control of the large ships while the pirates were distracted and undermanned due to the raid on the island, and then entangle them.
This was to prevent the pirates from fleeing before the White Harbor fleet arrived.
He had underestimated the number and fighting spirit of the pirates on the ships, and overestimated the speed of the White Harbor fleet.
Victar closed his eyes in pain. "Gods, save my crew. Save Vickary. If he survives, he will surely become an excellent captain."
Once again, the gods seemed to finally answer his prayers.
Wooooooo—
A long, melodious horn blast sounded from the direction of White Harbor, accompanied by a fleet emerging from the horizon, layer upon layer like ocean waves.
Flying from the masts was the Merman banner of House Manderly that Victar had been longing to see.
The White Harbor fleet consisted of over fifty ships of various sizes. Dozens of warships with sturdy rams took the center, fast medium galleys spread out on the right flank, and smaller boats along with slower, flat-bottomed heavy galleys took the left.
A lookout on a medium pirate ship spotted them. Ignoring their companions still on shore, they tried to flee, but couldn't disengage from the purple-sailed ships and other pirate vessels quickly enough to turn around.
The White Harbor fleet gave them no chance to struggle. Like a scimitar, the fleet swiftly encircled and cut off all escape routes for the pirates.
Realizing they were surrounded by the White Harbor fleet with no hope of escape, most of the pirates and mercenaries on the ships ceased resistance. The few who fought on were quickly subdued by White Harbor soldiers.
Seeing the tide turn, some of the pirates raiding Sweetsister fled early into the island's forests. Others, seeing the formation of nearly a thousand White Harbor soldiers disembarking, chose to surrender.
---
In a clearing outside the giant gallows of Sisterton, Manderly soldiers camped alongside the captured pirates and mercenaries.
Inside the central tent of the camp.
A Myrman with an exquisitely groomed beard, his hands and feet bound by iron chains, shouted in the Common Tongue: "We demand the treatment due to prisoners of war!"
The Myrman was named 'Crippled Hand' Tyrek, one of the leaders of this pirate band. He had spent years sailing the Stepstones, plundering merchant ships.
He would add captured ships to his fleet and sell the captured sailors, crew, and passengers, along with the cargo.
Beside him was a Tyroshi with long, dark green hair.
His features were delicate, his eyes devoid of malice. If not for the chains on his limbs, onlookers might have mistaken him for a scholar or poet rather than a pirate captain.
"Avik's accumulated treasures are enough to ransom Avik ten times over." The Tyroshi, Avik, spoke in broken Common Tongue. "Avik would be very happy to discuss the matter of ransom with you."
"You are pirates, not knights." Ser Marlon Manderly sat on one side of the long table, looking at Tyrek with disgust. "There is no special treatment for you."
Ser Marlon was a cousin of Wyman Manderly and served as the commander of the White Harbor City Watch.
He was commanding the White Harbor fleet sent to aid Sweetsister.
"A slave with the title of knight does indeed sell for much more in the Slaver Cities." Avik's eyes were full of sincerity.
"Avik needs no special treatment. Avik can pay you a ransom ten times that of a knight in exchange for my freedom."
"If the price is right, Avik also wishes to ransom the living crew, oarsmen, the bones of the dead crew, the ships, and food and fresh water." Avik's Common Tongue grew more fluent as he spoke.
"Avik will also pay for the food, wine, and lodging consumed by Avik and Avik's crew during our captivity. Double the price."
"Wise lords, killing Avik will only get you a useless Tyroshi corpse. Keeping Avik will get you a large ransom."
Tyrek watched the three men behind the long table listen quietly to Avik. Hope of leaving alive sparked in his heart, and he hurriedly added:
"I can negotiate too. I can also pay a large ransom like Avik."
Hearing their statements, Ser Marlon frowned. He looked to the other side of the long table at Vickary and the Captain of the Guard of Sweetsister. "What do you think?"
Victar had been carried back to the castle due to severe wounds and blood loss, leaving him in the care of the castle's Maester. Vickary attended in his place.
Earl Godric, out of his distaste for Northmen, refused to appear in their tent and delegated his Captain of the Guard to attend.